Lovers' Eyes Part 2
by Sophia-the-fangirl
Summary: Continuing from Lovers' Eyes Part 1. The troubles aren't over yet, not by a long shot! In fact, I'd say the trouble was just beginning. Part 2 of 2. Rated T again, same reason as last time. ;)


Chapter 1- Hamish

I'm breathing.

But that's impossible. I should be dead. The poison should have killed me. I should be with Sabrina in some twisted afterlife, be it heaven or hell.

No, I'm in a hospital. I'm still in St. Bart's, but I'm in a bed, hooked up to an IV. My clothes haven't been changed and my hands are still covered in blood. Sabrina's blood.

The last few moments I can recall are quickly fleeting. There was a candlestick in her back, her blood was everywhere. I tried to tell her that everything would be okay, that we could still be together, but I never found the words in time. John was there, and so was Sherlock, and Moran, and Moriarty. I told John that I knew who my parents were. It wasn't hard to figure out, but it still looked like his world had shattered. And then I drank the vial.

The vial that should have given me salvation.

I hear voices from behind the curtain that closes me off from the world. I listen carefully: is Uncle Mycroft here, speaking to Jim Moriarty? If we were all dead, then this surely wasn't heaven! They're speaking in sharp, business-like voices. I'm assuming it's burial plans for Sabrina, and how to break the news to me that the vial I took wasn't poison at all.

Maybe if I take the IV out, I'll die. But it's too late; Mycroft sweeps open the curtain with a flick of his umbrella. He's standing with Moriarty, but Molly pushes in front of them with some bag of fluids. She noiselessly hooks it to my IV, looking like she'll burst into tears any second. After she leaves Uncle and Moriarty sit on two hospital chairs across from my bed.

"So," Mycroft starts. "You're alive. We were able to neutralize the poison you took. You'll feel a little nauseous, but other than that you should be fine."

I give him a look that can only be described as "_And you tell me this because…?" _He doesn't seem to understand that look, so I begin to speak. "That doesn't really concern me at this time, Uncle. I should be dead. If Sabrina is dead, and I know she is, then why should I stay alive? And where is your brother? Shouldn't he know his son is alive? And where's John? He might care about my existence still."

Now it was James Moriarty's turn to talk. "Well, I can answer some of that. My daughter is, in fact, not dead. She went into shock when we thought she had died. The candlestick stabbed a part of her back that wouldn't be fatal, or even paralyzing. She has to go through some physical therapy, but other than that she'll be in perfect health."

I can hardly breathe. "So she's okay. Can I see her?"

"Not quite yet," Jim holds out a hand. "She's still waking up, and Sebastian needed to speak with her privately."

At least she's still alive. Maybe after we're out of here our parents will allow us to be together. Maybe we could forget about the consulting jobs we were raised to have and just live as ordinary people. Maybe…

"So, if you're up for it, we need to tell you about Emergency Protocol 221." Mycroft interrupts my train of thought.

"No, of course."

"We've arranged a way for you and Sabrina to be together. There's a small house at the shore waiting for you two. You'll have to live there for a year, with no contact to the outside world whatsoever. We will provide you two with the necessary education, and we will be the only ones you can contact. The town there is small, and I've pulled some strings so no papers will speak of this incident. Your colleagues think that you each have gone abroad for the year, and none of them will attempt to contact Sherlock or John."

His plan seems flawless. There's just one issue. "Do Sherlock & John not know that we are still alive?"

Moriarty cuts in. "Well, no. We didn't want them to know until the optimal amount of time has passed, let's say about a year. After that, you can have your little reunion, return to Baker Street, whatever it is that you'll do."

"But why can't they know that I'm okay?"

"Hamish, I know my brother better than anyone, and trust me: this is what's best. There will be no funeral for you, by the way. You're already supposedly buried." Mycroft replies.

Just then Moran flips open the curtain. He hasn't changed either. How long have we all been here? I check the clock: it's pretty early in the morning. We were here overnight.

"Sorry to interrupt, boys, but my daughter has been caught up and requests to see you." He nods towards me, and I can't help but feel that he still wants to put a few bullets through my skull.

"Well, if we are done here I have someone waiting in the other room." I say to Mycroft and Jim as I yank the IV out of my arm. That actually kind of hurt.

Sabrina is in the same type of bed I was in, but she's hooked up to more machines. There's a giant wrap around her torso, quite a bit of it stained rose-colored, but besides that she looks as gorgeous as always.

We embrace for a long time before finally breaking. Neither of us can say anything.

But in that, we said all that was needed to be said.

Chapter 2- Sabrina

I live again.

I could feel myself going into shock, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't relay the message to Hamish. Or to anyone. I feel as though Papa knew I wasn't dead. He's the only one that has seen me go into shock before. He says I look like death.

Speaking of Papa, he's here now, across from my bed. I'm hooked up to all kinds of machines that make no noise, and Papa nervously stares at them.

He notices I'm awake and runs to my bedside. "Oh my god, Sabrina. Are you feeling better? Your father and I were worried sick. He's talking to Mycroft Holmes now, but he'll be back in a minute."

I want to say the words I've been looking for since last night. "I'm going into shock. Everything will be alright. Please stay calm." But I can't say that now. It's too late.

Instead I say. "I'll be okay, but where's Hamish? Is he with his uncle now?"

Papa looks uncomfortable. "After you went into shock, Hamish thought you had died. We tried to stop him, but he drank a vial of poison so he could be with you."

What? No, no! Why bother keeping me alive if Hamish is dead? "Papa, unhook me from these machines. I don't want to be kept alive."

"Hold on just a minute!" He strongly retorts. "I never said he died! Molly managed to neutralize the poison, so he's okay. In fact, he'll make a quicker recovery than you will."

I try to move but a sharp pain in my back stops me. Only now do I realize that my entire torso is bandaged. The place where I was stabbed must've not been bad enough to kill me, or damage any internal organs. I still try to move, but Papa quickly pushes me back to the bed."You're still too weak to get up."

"But I want to see-"

"You can see Hamish in good time. Meanwhile, there are a few things I need to discuss with you."

He sits on the edge of my bed with an upset look on his face. "We have to activate Emergency Protocol 221B."

I nod. This is a protocol that has been planned for years. Hamish and I will have to go incognito for a year before anyone can know that we are alive. They'll probably set fake graves for us, make up a story about our sudden disappearance, all that jazz. "As long as I'm with Hamish, I'll be able to overcome anything."

"That's another thing I wanted to talk to you about." Papa's expression sours even more. "You understand first and foremost that your father and I are more than okay with you living out the rest of your life with Hamish, right?"

I nod.

"Well, there is a duty that you were raised to do, that you were born to do. You are the single heir to the Moriarty name, which means you will inherit the network when your time comes."

"Yes, but what does this have to do with my relationship with Hamish?" I reply.

"You see, Hamish is a Watson-Holmes, the son of the two men that create the opposing force from the network. He will take his father's name as a consulting detective. How can two people at such odds ever stay in love?"

I gulp. This was a conversation I had been trying to avoid. "Papa, do you honestly think we could work anything out between us?"

He doesn't respond for some time. Finally he begins a story. "There once was a pirate from Ancient China. He had a lover on the mainland, but she was a government official, a rare position for a woman. She was constantly at war with herself: should she turn in her love, or let innocent people die at his hand?"

"What did she do, Papa?"

"She did the one thing she could. She loved him, but only as a ghost could. He did his job as a pillager and murderer, and she looked the other way. Their relationship was mostly based on lies. They died together eventually, but they died alone."

"Papa, is this story true, or did you learn it in the war?"

"Aw, princess, you know I never tell the secrets behind my stories."

In that moment, the curtain is drawn back to reveal Hamish, his uncle and Father behind him. Papa leaves the room, and shuts the curtain behind us.

We don't say much; words often escape us.

But I never mind.

Chapter 3- Moran

We drop off Hamish and Sabrina at a small house by the shore. It's fully stocked with everything they might need. I'm not worried for them; Sabrina was always an independent person. I'm more worried about James. He's been so quiet since last night. He barely spoke to me when I gave him his coffee this morning, and when he was speaking with Holmes it was hushed and rushed. If he still has the same agreement with Mycroft that was set back in finishing school, this should be a seamless transition for these kids.

As we're flying back to London, I lean over to Jim and quietly ask him. "Jim? You okay?"

He has a look of confusion on his face. "So you told Sabrina everything that might push her away from Hamish? And it still didn't work?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Then what else can be done to pull them away from each other?"

"Well, what if we don't do any of the pulling, but let them slowly fall apart instead?"

"Tiger, are you getting smarter?" Jim breaks a smile. "I like it. I think it's time for our daughter's criminal daybieu."

Chapter 4- John

It's been a year.

I can't help but think about what happened every day. Was there something I could have done, something I could have said to make it all better for him?

Of course not. His world ended before I even got to the door.

Sherlock doesn't like to talk about it. All the photos of Hamish I had ever taken are gone, stored somewhere. His door stays locked, untouched since that fateful night. It's as if Hamish has been erased from Sherlock's mind palace.

Mycroft and Molly are over today, probably more for my sake than for anyone else's. They're sitting with Sherlock in the parlor, casually drinking tea and chatting about who knows what. They don't even care that Hamish killed himself a year ago.

I wonder if Moriarty and Moran know that today is the anniversary of their daughter's death. Probably.

I put on a plastered smile and join the others in the parlor.

"Ah, John, just in time," Sherlock says as I sit down. "Molly was just telling us about the new equipment in the autopsy rooms. Weren't you?"

Molly seems caught off guard. "Um, uh yes. Yes I was. As a matter of fact, the whole hospital is upgrading this year. It's been the highlight of the month."

She continues to tell us about the upgrades St. Bart's is receiving. Don't get me wrong, Molly's a lovely girl, but I just don't see the point in anything anymore. I haven't felt this upset since Sherlock… well, you know.

Sherlock notices I'm upset, so he gives his brother a weird look and says, "I think it's time."

Mycroft nods and turns to me. "John, it's time you know what really happened on this day a year ago."

I stare in shock. "I thought you guys didn't care. "

"We always have." Sherlock and Molly aren't saying anything. She looks like she's about to sob; he looks pensive and remorseful.

"Okay," I begin. "What happened last year that I don't already know about?"

"Well, you already know that Sabrina was stabbed by a candlestick in the back, and that Hamish drank a vial of poison. But the girl didn't die in front of you: she merely went into shock. We managed to neutralize the poison in your son's bloodstream. They both survived."  
I'm on my feet now. "You mean to tell me that my son has been alive this whole time?"

Mycroft nods.

I punch him square in the jaw.

"John, control yourself!" Sherlock is on his feet now as well. Molly is still sitting there, in shock that I had the audacity to punch her husband.

"If you would just listen to me, you'd understand why you had to think that they were dead for this long." Mycroft has recovered from the blow, holding the place where I punched him.

"Then please, shed a little light on this," I reply, shaking with an emotion I can't begin to describe. "Why hasn't my son contacted me in a year? Sherlock, why aren't you surprised? Has your new best friend Moriarty told you something I don't know?"

Sherlock looks genuinely upset, and I regret what I said. "Honestly, John, it wasn't that hard to figure out. One cup of coffee with Molly and I knew everything."

"Can't we all just sit back down, please?" Molly pours more tea in everyone's cup.

We all sit.

"Now, if you're done beating me up, I'll tell you everything." the older Holmes brother says.

"Fine. Tell me everything."

"After the two of them woke up, we told them that they had to disappear for a while. Remember how you two had that little plan with Moriarty? Well that wasn't all of it. He wanted what happened to happen, but I'm not sure for what reason. I managed to talk him out of his devious plan, which was no easy task. He agreed to let them live and be happy together, but the condition was that they had to cut off all contact with the two of you for as long as it took to finalize… something with their daughter. Thanks to the agreement I have with James, he's been giving me updates on how they're doing."

At the mention of their agreement, Molly's face turns to stone. I had heard that Moriarty leaked some information about his relationship with Mycroft to her a while back. Nobody else knows what it says.

"So, are they okay?"

"They're just fine, living at the shore. I know Hamish wants to see you two again as much as you do."

I sm immediately comforted by the fact that my son hasn't forgotten me.

"Speaking of which, when can we go see them? Is it okay to meet with them again?"

"Actually, we can leave in half an hour. It's not a terrible drive, but it requires some supplies. If you two would get ready, we can go see your son soon."

Chapter 5- Sabrina

Everything had to be timed out perfectly, like an elegant dinner party.

The first crime was like the appetizer. Intriguing, puzzling, exciting. Fresh material, if you would.

The second time they see you is cocktail hour. A huge statement about your crimes that leaves some ambiguity to your identity. It's surprising, but not too shocking.

Then comes the entree. The giant web of crimes that scares people into wanting more. If they never see you coming, their reaction is all the more savory.

And of course, the dessert is the sweetest part. The destruction of your biggest adversary, permanent or not. A delicious ending to a lovely string of crimes.

The only downfall to the structure is the blood on your hands. But, as Father always says, if you don't physically carry out the plan, the blood is not yours to wash out in the sink. I suppose that should give me some comfort when all of this unfolds. the thing I worry most about is how Hamish will react to it. I mean to tell him, I really do, but today is the first time we'll see Sherlock and John in a year, and I know he's anxious.

We've been living here for a year now, and I can't say I've hated it here. Quite the opposite, in fact. Some days I wish we could just forget the mess that is our lives and stay by the shore.

But, I have a network to inherit. All my schoolwork for the past year has been preparing me for what Papa and Father describe as my "day bieu". What does that even mean?

I shake off the thought as I return to the monotonous task that is folding towels. Hamish walks through the door with a semi-worried expression. My look must be of concern, because he spontaneously kisses me, but I'm not complaining.

"Don't worry," he says to me, but probably mostly to himself. "everything will be fine."

"I know." I smile back. If there's one thing I know we both share worry for, it's John's reaction to what has been hidden from him for a year.

There's a knock at the door and Hamish runs to get it. I know better than to intrude on this reunion, so I stay back whilst listening in on the conversation. All I hear is an "Oh my God" and an "I was right. I'm always right.". The owners of these words weren't hard to place, but they both sound like they were close to tears, which is odd. I don't hear anything else for a long time, until John finally says "So, where is your, erm, girlfriend? Is she here?"

"Yes, she's here. I can go fetch her." Hamish replies.

"Nonsense, you two haven't seen each other for a year. I can go fetch her." Sherlock insists.

"But you haven't seen him for a year either." John counters.

"No need to fetch anyone," I make my entrance. "I'm right here."

I'm caught off guard by a hug from John. He says quietly as we embrace, "Are you two…?"

I think I know what he's asking. "He wanted to wait until you two could attend the wedding, so no."

John doesn't reply. He might still be tearing up. We break and I gesture for all of us to sit down.

"So," Sherlock starts. "We all have a lot to catch up on."

We all talk for hours and well into the night. Nobody wants to sleep with everyone else so happy to see each other, so the guest room is left untouched. There is a consensus about the wedding plans: it will be in the fall, with a small guest list. Nothing fancy, nothing to attract enemies, very quiet. Even Sherlock seemed excited for us, which I don't think I've ever seen.

Finally, early in the morning, Sherlock and John leave. We agree that Hamish and I will return to London later that day, after everyone has gotten some sleep.

I stop Hamish before he goes to his room. "There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

We sit on the couch once more. He looks concerned, which is probably due to my expression of pain.

"So," I begin. "I don't know how to say this."

"Just say it," he replies quietly. "What's the worse that can happen?"

"I'm- I'm inheriting the network soon." The words flow off my tongue like drops of water.

His mouth is like cotton.

"I know you didn't want this to happen, but I'm afraid I have no choice. Father says it's necessary. I understand if- if…"

"If what?"

"If you no longer find it possible to love me." Those last words are like shards of glass. I can't hold in my tears anymore.

He pulls me into a hug. "Oh, god, Sabrina," he quietly says. "Did you really think you could get rid of me that easily?"

We stay there for a long time. Eventually we just fall asleep.

Chapter 6- Hamish

Moving back into 221B Baker Street was odd, for lack of a better word.

I love seeing John and Sherlock again, and I love being back home, where I belong, but after living with Sabrina for a year I didn't think I'd ever live with anyone else ever again. But I'm not complaining; Mrs. Hudson was glad to see me again too. Besides, Sabrina is where she was when we were first together, in Moriarty's flat across town.

I was getting ready for dinner with John and Sherlock, the first in a year, when I hear a knock at the front door. The door is opened and I hear Sherlock say "No. Absolutely not.", but nothing else. Then a woman's voice says "But he's my son too, I have a right to see him.", and Sherlock retorts with "After eighteen years? Why now?".

It's my mother. It's Irene Adler, someone I've only heard about in stories. What should I do? I know; I'll play the innocent card.

I walk out to where the two are bickering, using the most unsuspecting face I can muster.

"Father, were we going to-" I begin. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know we had company." I extend my hand to shake. "I'm Hamish, Sherlock's son."

She looks absolutely flabbergasted. "Oh my." is all she says, and suddenly she's hugging me. This woman, who is supposedly my mother, is hugging me.

"Hamish," Sherlock starts. "This is Ms. Adler. She is your mother."

"Was this the best time?" Suddenly, John is in the doorway to the kitchen. He looks upset. I think back to that night at St. Bart's, and what I said to John. _Does it matter? You're not even my real father._ That line must have killed him. My whole life, John had been nothing but the perfect example of a father to me. He is more of a father than Sherlock could ever be, that's for sure.

"John, could I speak to you for a moment? Hamish, please show Irene into the parlor." Sherlock leads John into the kitchen, probably to reassure him that Irene never received an invitation from him.

Irene and I sit in the parlor. I decide that she is pretty, and that we do look alike to some extent.

"Oh my dear," she finally says. "I wish I could have told you sooner."

"Well, I figured out that you were my mother a few years ago, so I already knew. But I also knew that Sherlock wouldn't let me see you until I was eighteen, so I understand why we've never met." I reply. I'm aware that she used to be a dominatrix of sorts, but after her affair with Sherlock she moved on to "bigger and better things".

She nods. "I had kept in touch with your father over the years. I wanted to know everything about you."

So, my mother does care about me. "But why meet now of all times? Surely Sherlock has already told you what happened."

"Oh, yes, he has. It's so exciting, with you and Jim's daughter being together. I absolutely love it, which is more than I can say for your father."

"It's true. Sherlock doesn't agree with Sabrina and I being engaged, but in the end I suppose his opinion doesn't matter."

"Well, whatever you chose, know that I will be behind you every step of the way." she replies whilst grabbing my hand. It's strange to know so much about someone, but to not really know them. I feel as though this meeting with my mother has opened my eyes to more options of support than from Sherlock or John.

"Thank you, Ms. Adler."

"Irene, please."

"Okay. Thank you, Irene."

We smile at each other. I haven't really had a woman play huge roles in my life, aside from Molly and Sabrina, but I just met a new powerful force that can change my life for the better.

"Well," she says. "I better be off. Don't want to upset your fathers too much now. You know, when I first met John he had no idea that Sherlock was sweet on him, or that he even liked your father. Strange, isn't it?"

"Wait!" I call after her as she's stepping out the door. "There's one thing I've wanted to ask you for such a long time. When you and Sherlock were… together, was John-?"

"Oh no! It wasn't until after I was already pregnant that we broke it off and those two realized their affection for each other." she replies reassuringly, nodding towards where Sherlock and John are now standing. "Goodbye, dear. Never hesitate to call." she waves at me.

"Goodbye." I wave back, watching her disappear from 221B.

Chapter 7- John

"I still don't think it's right." Sherlock insists as Molly fixes his bowtie.

"Then hush, brother, because it's too late now." Mycroft replies, his hands slightly twitching from the absence of his beloved umbrella.

The three of us stand as still as we can as Molly gives us one last look-over. "All good for you men," she finally decides. "How's this end looking?"

"Perfect." Mycroft replies while kissing her forehead. Their relationship confuses me at times, but today is not their day, nor is it mine.

November came so quickly; I thought we'd have more time than this to plan. Molly and Irene said that Sabrina found the perfect dress in such crunch time, thanks to a few strings they pulled. Jim and Sebastian found the venue and decor people pretty quickly, and Sherlock and I hired some reception experts; everyone was paid extra to keep quiet.

Irene enters with Moriarty and Moran in tow. She looks great (as usual) in a dress that coordinates with our tuxes and Molly's dress. While Moriarty looks at home in his attire, Moran looks uncomfortable in grey. Everyone looks uniform, but nobody looks ready.

Mrs. Hudson arrives last, tears in her eyes. Hamish and Sabrina made it clear that they only wanted their families there, and Mrs. Hudson always counts as family. The priest isn't family, but he obviously needed to be there, and he was paid for silence as well.

"I'm not ready for this." I say to Sherlock, but of course everyone hears.

"Nobody's ready for this, they're far too young." Moran replies, clearly bitter that his daughter was still with our son.

"It doesn't matter now," Irene cuts in. "They're happy and highly capable of starting a life together."

Mycroft agrees. "Let's just let it happen. They can learn from their mistakes, we don't need to teach them from ours."

"Everyone just settle down," Mrs. Hudson quiets us all. "The ceremony is starting."

Here we go. I have to say goodbye to my son all over again.

Chapter 8-Sabrina

"I wouldn't do that!"

"But say you we're in a position where they had captured your loved ones-"

"Why do all of your scenarios involve loved ones being in danger?"

"Because it's a potential threat! Look, princess, if you had less of a connection to the outside world, things would be different."

"Compared to the average human, I have little to no contact to anyone outside of my family."

"Well you are associated with the likes of Sherlock Holmes and his crew now."

"Father, they are family now." It was a few weeks after the wedding, and Father still couldn't grasp the fact that he was related to Sherlock and John.

"Unfortunately, they are. You do remember that they don't agree with this arrangement anymore than Papa and I do, right? Even your own mother would be ashamed."

"Wait a minute. You knew my mother? I thought I was adopted."

"Eh, adopted is a relative term. Your mother was a client of mine; she was one of the most caniving people I've ever met. After you were born we agreed to go our separate ways and not tell you until you were old enough. Unfortunately, your mother was killed out of mercy in Russia. That's about all I knew about her."

"So you're my real father?"

"Of course! You had to be of the Moriarty lineage to inherit the network, which you will soon. Until then, we'll co-own the network together. Now that's a plan!"

I take a moment to process what he just said. My whole life I thought I was a nobody disguised as someone. Now, knowing that I am truly someone, who knows what I can achieve?

Turning back to my father, with a newfound confidence, I ask a risky questionwhe motioning to the paperwork around us. "Father, when will all of this be known to the public?"

"Very soon, dear. Very soon."

Chapter 9- Moran

Merry Christmas to us all.

I never cared for The Christmas season much. Sure I believed in Jesus and the whole nativity spiel, but the commercialism and hype that's tacked on to the real part of it spoils the spirit for me. That's why Sabrina was told that Santa Claus isn't real in first grade when she came home full of ideas that her classmates had told her about the commercial aspect.

Anyway, Sabrina persuaded Jim and I to attend a Christmas party at John's apartment, and I'm not allows to spike the eggnog. His night is going to be rough.

Luckily, as soon as we get there, Sherlock requests a word with Jim and I'm left with John, who tells me there's already hooch in the drink. I feel that if we weren't sworn enemies, John and I would be friends. We had enough to talk about while everyone else chatted politely. Most of our banter was about the war and what we did in Afghanistan. He's not half bad, for a law abider.

"Sebastian? Can I ask you something?"

"Go for it."

"Do you think this is still a good idea?" John asks while gesturing to our kids, who are talking to two different groups of people.

I set my drink down, debating with myself on how to answer his question. "Ya know, I still have my doubts about this. Sabrina is about to become the co-owner of the network. And I'm sure Hamish would want to be a consulting detective or doctor, like you two are."

He nods in obvious agreement. "If I didn't know better I'd say you we're trying to break them up again."

I shrug. "Hey, let's let them make their own decisions. I only have a say in my daughter's occupation, but absolutely nothing else."

Jon and I toast to a newfound understanding.

Chapter 10- Hamish

I prefer to think of her as Sabrina instead of Moriarty.

Of course, once she's out committing crimes opposite her father, she will be Moriarty, lost to an identity that's outgrown any one person.

And I might have to be the one to stop her.

We've talked about this time and time again. I'd rather be a doctor than a detective, really, but how could I idly stand by while she murders innocent people?

I asked her this once, and she replied with a simple "they're not innocent, dear. Nobody is innocent. I'm just bringing them I an unimely justice.", or at least that's what I'm supposed to think to sleep easy at night.

She's more upset by this than I am, so I try to be understanding. It's just so conflicting for me.

But when she's not Moriarty, when she's Sabrina, the girl I fell in love with at the academy forever ago, the world seems to be in full bloom. We never worry about our work, which majorly contradicts each others, but instead we enjoy each others' company. We decided not go have kids; what kind of life would they be thrown into with us as parents? From our own personal experience, we know that consulting detectives/criminals should never raise children.

I learned to change during work too. If I cut off emotions, the pain of solving my wife's crimes goes away for a while.

She loves me, I know she does. I hope she knows that I love her too. No matter who she kills, or what she becomes, I'll always love her. It's just...

I can love Sabrina, but I can't love Moriarty.

Chapter 11- Sabrina

Our love was cut in half.

When he's working, he seems to turn into a completely different person. His emotions disappear, and the side I wish I never met emerges. The side of him that's more like Sherlock both terrifies and intrigues me. But that's not him. That's not the Hamish I fell in love with. Of course, I'm not the same girl either.

If we don't work around each other, it almost feels like that blissful year we spent in solitude. I wish we could go back to that time, and stay there forever.

But we can't.

Our parents don't seem to care that we fall apart half of the time. But then, they don't understand. John and Sherlock are both a force for good, and Father and Papa stand against the people who still believe in good.

I still love him. I'll never stop loving him, no matter what happens to us. But sometimes I forget what it was like to truly love someone without interruption or interference.

And I fear this is killing me.

Chapter 12- John

They ae falling apart.

But they won't leave each other. How could they? Their love for each other is blinding to anyone who could see. Even Sherlock recognizes it, which is saying something, because it took him years to even tell me "I love you".

Moran and I are becoming closer pals. We go out for drinks often, and we update each other on how our children are feeling about all of this. This past evening we went into a deep conversation.

"It's still, love, but it's hollow now." He said to me

"I had hoped that this wouldn't happen to them." I replied.

"James and Sherlock were involved, John. And they always get what they want."

"They wanted to break them apart, not break their hearts."

"Oh no, he didn't break their hearts. He burned their hearts. He burned the hearts out of them."

And that's what Jim wanted all along. Not to desperate them, but to give them an unhappy life together.

Sherlock wanted it for them too.

And it worked.


End file.
